Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge: Day 1 Prompt: Food & Drink
@jonsa-creatives
His heart froze, icicles forming over his lungs. Jon could not breathe. He could only gasp for air that would never reach his lungs. Death was not a friend, but an old companion. He could greet it and welcome it back into his soul, like smoke inhaled into his bloodstream. But if he allowed it, he would never see her sweet face. He would never hear the sound of her laughter; or feel the warmth of her body against him. He was brought back once to serve only one great purpose – her. Jon could not leave this earthly plane until she was safe. He must fight against the dying light; he must dispel the ice from his heart and let his blood ebb crimson once more. For her, Jon will rise. He will fight; he will make it back.
Sansa woke with a start. Her heart pounded like war drums in the midst of battle. Grey eyes flashed in the waning darkness as the dream slipped through her consciousness. His presence in the castle had begun to disappear. She could no longer recall his solemn face as well as the first night without him. Sansa removed the furs from her sweat-soaked body and slipped her feet onto the cold stone floor. Light filtered in through her window, drawing long shadows along the walls – monsters and saviours battling it out for a new world. Sansa traced her fingers along the edges where the light met darkness and prayed.
Let his body be nimble, his mind sharp, and his heart strong. In the privacy of her own chambers, she whispered, “and let him come home to me.”
The knock on the door startled her. A long-faced maiden barely a day over ten and two ambled quickly into the room to place the morning’s food on the table. Sansa no longer wished to break fast in the Great Hall. It was so empty without him. Even in silence, they could sit side by side and she would still find peace in his company, but his absence made her heart ache. What was a wolf without her pack? A Stark without her Snow?
“Thank you, Neerya,” Sansa spoke, voice still hoarse from sleep. She settled in the chair and eyed the bread roll and the thick, hard cheese. Times were tough now with winter upon them. Food was scarce with most crops unable to grow under the dense layer of snow – all of this Sansa knew. As Lady of Winterfell, it was her duty to the people to ensure they were all fed well enough to survive the winter, yet her stomach turned at the sight.
“Is something wrong, m’lady?” Neerya, who had been tidying the bed, looked upon Sansa with concern. She approached her slowly, a prey in the presence of a predator – a wolf. “Would you wish for something else? I could speak to the cook and –”
“The food is fine,” Sansa interrupted. Her voice held impatience that was unwarranted, and she sensed her mistake when Neerya flinched. “I apologise. I am not well this morn. Could you please let the lords and ladies know I will not be attending to any visitors today?”
“Shall I get the maester, m’lady?”
“No, that will not be necessary. It will pass, Neerya. I just wish to rest today.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Neerya bowed her head and began to retreat. She stopped just a few paces shy from the door and turned. “Lord Baelish is waiting for you in your solar. What shall I tell him?”
Sansa’s teeth clenched. If only she could tell him to return to the Vale and never show his face again in Winterfell lest he wished the same treatment done upon him as Ramsay, but Sansa bit her tongue. “The very same. No one is permitted up here without my knowledge. Do you understand, Neerya?”
The young maiden bowed once more and left. The quiet immediately swelled around the room, like mist rolling over the fields at the sun’s first light. Unassuming, beautiful, dangerous – Sansa could acutely hear the rise and fall of her breaths and wondered if there was still air in his lungs. Did his heart still beat as rhythmically as hers?
She poked the bread roll with the tip of her knife.
“Eat.”
Sansa glanced at him and wondered how he could when her stomach twisted and turned like a snowstorm inside of her. “I’m afraid have no appetite tonight.”
“Sansa,” he said, his voice chiding and worried all at once. “Please. Winter is here and you will need your strength.”
“And you?” She was still watching him as he was her, their eyes meeting in a battle of wills; but she could not look away even if her fight waned, even if he won. His eyes held a million stories and a million more songs. She wanted to learn them all.
“This will be your last hot meal for some time,” she said. “You should have some of mine.” She tried to place her bread roll onto his plate, but Jon’s hand caught her wrist and stilled her movements. The contact sent a shiver up her spine. The slight crease between his brows suggested he felt it too.
“I am eating,” Jon told her. She felt fragile under his grip, like any slight movement would render her bones to dust and she would drift away with the winds, swallowed into the stars above. But she felt strong too, his touch igniting wildfire in her blood.
He loosened his grip, fingers lightly descending down her palm so he could hold her hand. “You needn’t worry for me. I will come home.”
“Many die in war, Jon,” she said, as she squeezed his hand. “You cannot promise me things out of your control. You may die tomorrow.”
Jon smiled, and though it angered her how he could not see why she fretted so, her heart eased its hold on her lungs and danced at the sight. “Is this the send off the Lady of Winterfell wishes to give her king?”
“You’re not being serious,” she said.
The smile faltered and he sighed, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. Mayhaps they both will break apart into dust and float away to the stars. At least then he would be safe.
With her.
“I am very serious, Sansa,” Jon told her softly. “Home is here. Home is where you are. I will come back. With my last breath, I promise you.”
Tears slipped past her resolve. Sansa wiped them hastily and turned the food away. She could not bear the sight when he could be out there dying, bleeding and alone, and without her. How could she when he had taken her heart with him? It did not matter anymore what the world may say of them, what even she thought of them because here in her chambers with images of his death running through her mind, Sansa cared very little. All she needed was for him to come home to her; for his arms to wrap themselves around her and his lips to press against her skin, whispering that it would all be okay.
Masterlist: Entries from the JonSa Summer Challenge 2017!
Hey Jonsa fam! Hope you’ve all had an exciting couple of weeks now that the season is back in full swing!
Amy and I would like to thank once again those who participated in our Jonsa Summer Challenge - we were utterly blown away by all our different entries and are thankful for each participant!
We also would like to give a great big shout out to our beloved JonSa fam, the supporters who read, liked, commented, encouraged and reblogged the entries - you are absolutely invaluable to the JonSa fandom and we love you for taking the time to read and send your love to the talented writers/artists that make up the JonSa fandom!
If you haven’t caught up in reading all the awesome entries or afraid that you might have missed out some, fret not, we’ve got you covered!
Under the cut, you’ll find a list of all the entries from the Summer Challenge, categorized under the prompts. It’s a great long list (in no particular order) because we are more than happy to share all the good stuff! Also, if you liked the stories/graphics, do give them a follow, because we’re sure you will have a lot more JonSa goodness coming your way!
Day 1 - Food & Drink
Stood Up by @what-would-ww-do (Janina on A03)
The Sweetest Thing by @zip00198704
Jurassic World AU by @hellyeahayumichan
Seasons of Wine by @geekprincess26 (geekprincess on AO3)
Fruitful by @lathwell55 (Amymel86 on AO3)
Untitled fic (with graphics) by @jonsasnow (calico_tw on AO3)
Day 1 - Travel
Papped by @lathwell55
Pony Tails & Rootbeer by @kittykatknits (kittykatknits on AO3)
Heaven Can’t Help Me Now by @myrish-lace-love (myrish_lace on AO3)
More Than The Cosmos by @wintermellons (questionably_fortunate_bamboo on AO3)
81 Minutes by @vivilove-jonsa (vivilove on AO3)
Steam and Roses (with graphics) by @blackcorazon
Day 2 - Celebrations
Four Weddings & A Blizzard by @geekprincess26
Queen for the Day by @wintermellons
Conspiracy at the Spring Tourney by @fedonciadale
*Little Wolf by @jonsasnow (kudos for incorporating multiple prompts into her fic!)
Day 2 - Nature
Inner Tubes & Ice Cream by @kittykatknits
Jurassic World AU: Prequel by @hellyeahayumichan
Let’s Get Out of This Town by @myrish-lace-love
Bears & Fireflies by @vivilove-jonsa
Raspberries and spring by @jane-birkn
Day 3 - Gifts
From Me, with Love by @wintermellons
JonSa fic ft. Ghost - graphics by @qinaliel and written by @jeynedondarrion
The Highway Man’s Gift by @what-would-ww-do
Day 3 - Fixations
I Slip My Skin to See You by @vivilove-jonsa
Four Weddings and A Blizzard: Chapter 2 by @geekprincess26
She Does Not Give In (with graphics) by @awolfofwinterfell (TheAdamantDaughter on AO3)
Jurassic World AU:Sequel by @hellyeahayumichan
Law Of Attraction Series by @myrish-lace-love
Day 4 - Hazy Days
Driving Miss Sansa (with graphics) by @jonsaforlife (MissEmmanuelle on AO3)
Day 4 - Summer Nights
Getting to Know my Neighbour (you’re pretty cute too) by @myrish-lace-love
Swearing Up a Storm by @wintermellons
Captain Foot Massage by @vivilove-jonsa
My Body’s Telling Me by @lathwell55
Jurassic World AU by @hellyeahayumichan
First Love and Lost Friend by @kittykatknits
Day 5 - Firsts
First Encounter by @vivilove-jonsa
Jurassic World AU by @hellyeahayumichan
Let’s Get Out of This Town (neighbours AU) by @myrish-lace-love
Friends Again or Maybe More by @kittykatknits
Untitled fic (First night) by @wendynerdwrites
Day 5 - Dreams
And When I Woke by @wintermellons
I Dream of Jonnie by @lathwell55
Day 6 - Music
Jurassic World AU by @hellyeahayumichan
Four Weddings and a Blizzard: Chapter 5 by @geekprincess26
Day 6 - Film
Things Done After Sex by @wintermellons
Moulin Rouge AU by @lathwell55
Day 7 - Free choice day
But First, a Sweet Kiss by @vivilove-jonsa
Dinner First and Then Remember by @kittykatknits
Mermaid AU (ficlet gifset) by @jonsaforlife & @lathwell55
Coming Out of My Cage by @wintermellons
Jurassic World AU by @hellyeahayumichan
Told you it was a long fantastic list, didn’t we? So, without further ado, don’t let us get in the way of your JonSa reading pleasure, go check all these out right now!
Have a great day filled with joy, love and sweet lemon cakes,
The story picks up from when Jon leaves Winterfell to join forces with Dany (around 7.02 if I’m right) but this chapter is dedicated to flashbacks. Tried my best to keep things as realistic as possible. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
“There must always be a Stark at Winterfell,” Jon said with his hand on her left cheek.
Her head understood, but her body protested – she could feel her chest tighten, her throat form a lump, and her eyes well up. Being around Jon had given her so much comfort these past few months. Despite obvious threats North and South of them, she found that she could still have conversation and laughter. She was not looking forward to being away from family again.
“When you come back, you will be King again. I promise.” Now, she had said this mostly to get Jon to promise he would return, but instead she would get the opposite.
“Winterfell is yours, Sansa. I was playing King at best. After the War, there will be no need for me.”
“Our family needs you, Jon. Wartime or not.” I need you, she wanted to say.
When they were kids, Sansa made a point of ignoring Jon, rolling her eyes at him every time he would throw her a glance. She hated the idea of him – this alien who thought he could be a part of their family. He was weird, too – just sulking in the corner and frowning about. If he was gonna intrude anyway, the least he could do was not make the rest of them feel bad about it. It annoyed her how he had to act like a victim all the time.
But not anymore. Sansa realized that Jon didn’t choose the Starks. He was a Stark and he deserved a place in their home as much as the rest of them. She had been so mean to him and she apologized for this every time the thought crossed her mind. But Jon seemed to show more understanding for who she was then than she ever did him. In fact, it seemed like he was more confused by her now that she had changed.
“I don’t know. You surprise me.” Jon said to her once during one of their late night talks by the fire. This was the night of the day they left the Wall, the day she had given him a new coat, one that looked more like her Father’s.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I never really got to know you. I had known you from a distance at best.”
“Well, that changes now.” Sansa grabbed his hand for what seemed like the second time that week.
Jon hadn’t known her. But he loved her all the same. She was family. So when he first saw her, he felt like clinging on to this fragile, precious thing that he had not known in years. Family. But Sansa surprised him beyond that. She had grown up, despite the worst of odds against her, to be beautiful and kind and smart. She was a person he could admire, and, if he was being honest, this made him feel quite insecure sometimes.
He had great confidence in her as she had many times said she had in him, and, so there was no hesitation in him to leave Winterfell to Sansa.
“You will have a beautiful family. I know it.” Jon knew that leaving and fighting the war could mean the end of him. But he had to fight if it meant his sister could have a family, if it meant that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms could lead lives free from war and death.
Written for Day 1 of the @jonsa-creatives Jonsa Summer Challenge. I chose the Food and Drink theme.
Long ago, when Tyrion Lannister had asked Sansa if she drank wine, she had replied, “Only if I have to.”
“Well, today you have to,” he had told her, just teasingly enough to bring back the smile she had so desperately needed to wear in order to survive her wedding day.
She continued to drink wine over the years, but, true to her word, only when she felt it necessary. Years later, when she came to Winterfell to stay and discovered the sweetness of its honey mead, she drank wine even less.
But she drank it on the night during the depths of winter when Tyrion, no longer her husband either in truth or by law, returned to Winterfell with the newly crowned Daenerys Targaryen at his side. Daenerys, who had just ended the reign of Cersei Lannister in a hail of fire and blood, was unaccustomed to the hearty ales and meads of the North, and so Sansa ordered wine for the feast Winterfell held in the new queen’s honor.
She did indeed need the wine, she reflected hours into the feast. As Lady of Winterfell and heir to her brother Bran, Sansa had had to receive the royal retinue graciously; but she did not have to trust them, and she had incurred a searing headache by following the every move of the new queen and her courtiers. She only stopped when she heard a low, familiar voice at her elbow and turned to see Jon, once her brother and now her cousin; Jon, whom the Dragon Queen had just legitimized over his protests as Jon Targaryen; Jon, who had spent the evening looking as dour as he ever had when his name had been Snow; Jon, the only person in the hall who had spent half as much time as Sansa darting inscrutable looks at his newfound aunt. Sansa had not been entirely sure what to make of those looks, or indeed of Jon, who had been away for nearly a year; but when she felt his gentle touch on her shoulder and saw his outstretched hand offering her a full horn of honey mead, she rewarded him with a look of unabashed gratitude, for he had just saved her not only from worsening her headache, but from having to dance with one of Queen Daenerys’s most persistent attendants yet again.
“It’s better than the Night’s Watch ale,” Jon said, and his brown eyes twinkled. Sansa’s lips formed their first true smile in months.
Sansa drank wine again when the Dragon Queen and her army visited Winterfell again at the beginning of the Great Spring, their numbers reduced by over half at the hands of the now-destroyed Night’s King and his equally obliterated army. At first there were no great feasts, only hastily roasted game rushed up to the great hall from the kitchens and hastily cooked porridge rushed into Winterfell’s overflowing guest quarters where the wounded lay groaning on beds and pallets and even piles of straw on the floors. Jon had taken a severe shoulder wound, and Sansa had stitched it herself and fed him his porridge herself and spent all of her time treating other men in prayer to any god that would listen on Jon’s behalf, even though she still doubted whether she believed in any gods at all. Once enough of the queen’s small council could walk, Sansa ordered them as proper a dinner as could be arranged. She sat at the queen’s right hand and drank her wine and did all she could to hurry the conversation along so she could see to Jon again. She was just opening her mouth to say that perhaps they should adjourn to the council chamber when the door opened and Jon came hobbling in and Sansa flew out of her seat to engulf him in her arms. She wanted to shout any number of admonishments about his need for rest and making his wound worse, but all she could do was whisper Jon into his shoulder and inhale the scent of pine trees and spring air from his neck and feel his good arm close about her as he whispered Sansa into her ear.
Sansa drank wine for the first time after that during a hot, sunny afternoon in the Red Keep as summer swept over the new Westeros. Tyrion had cornered her that morning just before the luncheon hour and told her in a voice lighter than his look that she might need wine again at that afternoon’s council meeting. Sansa chose a seat between Jon and their trusted counselor Davos Seaworth, but her hand still trembled as she lifted the goblet of Dornish Red to her lips. She was not surprised when the Dragon Queen announced her desire to see the heirs to the Northern and Southern thrones of Westeros wed, preferably to each other, but her hand still shook. It shook as she set down the goblet, and it shook when she grabbed Jon’s arm as he shouted at his aunt that he would be dead before he let her force Sansa to marry again. He only stopped shouting when Sansa’s hand began trembling harder, and Sansa barely had time to take one more gulp from the goblet before Jon took her arm and led her, now trembling all over, out of the chamber.
“I’ll do it, Jon,” she whispered as they sat in a neglected corner of the castle gardens. “She’ll just marry me to someone else if you don’t. Probably a Southern lord who has no appreciation for snow or mead,” she added, forcing a strained smile onto her face. She half expected Jon to get angry again, but instead he nodded and gave her one of his inscrutable looks before reaching up to rub her shoulders gently with his hands.
“You – nothing will have to change,” he promised, and his face reddened. “I won’t be called king or prince, and I won’t touch you or – or come to your chambers, Sansa; not ever, if you don’t want me to.”
Sansa wanted to harangue him about how the marriage must be a real one, and how badly both North and South needed heirs with so few people left to any of the surviving Houses; but a lump of tears thickened in her throat, and one of them trickled unbidden down her left cheek. Jon’s thumb brushed it away so gently that Sansa barely felt his touch. She managed a nod before the second tear escaped, and the third and fourth and dozenth; and she offered no resistance as Jon took her into his arms and kissed her hair and whispered to her that she was safe. She clung to him and let the tears become sobs when she realized she might believe him.
Four years later, as summer faded into autumn, the Dragon Queen visited Winterfell again, and once again, Sansa drank wine at the welcoming feast. She heard the queen’s attendants whispering that the Lady of Winterfell must not be much accustomed to the wine, for her eyes shone and a flush covered her face after only one goblet, and she smiled like a fool over every word her husband the Lord Jon said. Sansa’s smile only grew, for she would never bother telling them that her eyes shone because she felt Jon interlace his fingers with hers underneath the table, and she blushed because she saw his adoring gaze from across the room when she was making her rounds to greet the queen’s courtiers, and she smiled when Jon spoke because his voice had called her out of her nightmares countless times until they began to lessen and fade.
Later that night, after they had kissed their sleeping children, they retired to their chambers. Jon’s eyes shone with delight and then want as Sansa loosened his laces and hers, and his lips and hands caressed her tenderly, and his voice moaned and whispered Sansa and perfect and love, love, love into her ears and onto her body, and their groans mingled with their delight until they curled, spent and overjoyed, into each other’s arms. For a fleeting moment Sansa thought of Tyrion and the words he had spoken to her about wine so long ago, and she smiled again when she imagined his scandalized look when he realized just how little of it she had ever needed.
This was a gift for @vivilove-jonsa for her birthday, and then I decided it fit today’s theme for the @jonsa-creatives summer challenge. So, without further ado...
Jon hated blind dates. Hated them. Sometimes, he’d think he’d rather set himself on fire than go on one, and that was saying something considering he was a firefighter. Why he’d let Sam and Gilly talk him into this was beyond him. He was awkward at best with people, but stick him in this kind of situation and it was like he forgot how to form words. It was just that his mind would go a mile a minute, wanting to fill the silence, but nothing would actually pass through his lips.
So, now here he was in a fancy restaurant that Gilly had told him was her friend’s favorite and oh, fuck. Did he remember her name? Elizabeth? Beth? … Jennifer?
Okay, yeah, he was dressed up in a black suit sitting at a table that made him feel like a giant, and he was wondering how long it’d take before he spilled something on the cream-colored tablecloth or sent his sparkling silverware to tumble to the floor.
“Hello, welcome to Strega Prime. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Jon looked up at the waitress and his mouth went dry. She was beautiful. Red hair pulled back in a thick braid, big blue eyes outlined in black that reminded him of a cat, and smooth alabaster skin that made him wonder if she burnt to a crisp in the sun. Her lips were painted red, and she was smiling at him. She wore black nylons, a black skirt, a white apron over the skirt, and a crisp white button down.
“Uhhh,” Jon started. Great, now I sound like an idiot, he thought.
“Do you want to wait for your date?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, I think that would be best.”
She smiled. “At least let me get you some water?”
“Yes, that would be great, thanks.”
She nodded and left and Jon couldn’t help but watch her go. Her legs were long. Very long. And sleek and toned and he needed to stop.
She came back with the water and poured him some in the large tumbler on the table. She smelled like something sweet and minty at the same time.
“This is a blind date,” he blurted out.
She stood back and just looked down at him. “I’m sure it will go well. Are you nervous?”
He nodded. “I am. I hate blind dates.”
“Then why…?”
“Friends. They convinced me.”
“Friends can be like that,” she said with a grin. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? It might help you relax. It’ll be on the house on account of a blind date.”
Jon laughed softly. “Do I look that much of a wreck?”
“You look ready to bolt.”
He laughed again. ‘Thank you….?”
“Sansa. What would you like?”
“Um, a beer I guess?”
“I’ll even put it in a fancy glass for you.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Sansa.”
“You’re welcome…?”
“Jon. Jon Snow.”
“Excuse me, Jon Snow, and I’ll bring you that beer.”
She left again and Jon smiled as he sat back. Okay, so he could talk to her no problem. He checked his watch. His date should be here within five minutes.
Sansa returned with the beer in a tall, slim, glass and Jon fought the urge to gulp it down. He took a few sips and watched her move about the restaurant, tending to a few patrons who had come in. It was just about dinner time, the place was going to start filling up soon.
Soon enough, he started to relax. Liquid courage and all. Sansa returned with a basket of bread and placed it on the table with a little plate of oil that contained a hunk of garlic and some herbs.
“In case you wanted a snack,” she said and then moved on again.
Jon checked his watch. His date was five minutes late.
Then fifteen. Sansa came back and asked if he wanted a refill on his beer.
“No,” he said. “I’m good. In case my date wants wine…what’s that saying about beer and wine?”
“Beer before wine you’ll feel fine, wine before beer sick for a year,” she recited.
He grinned. “You knew that one straight away.”
“Well, I did go to college. I think I took a class on drinking.”
“I’m sure knowing that helps in this sort of environment.”
“Well, not really. People who come here don’t commonly drink to get drunk. They just want the best bottle we’ve got to impress the person sitting next to them.”
“I’m not like that,” Jon felt compelled to say.
She smiled. “I didn’t think you were. Have you tried the bread, Jon?”
“I finished the bread, Sansa.”
She peered into the basket. “So you did. Would you like more?”
“Sure.”
She left and came back rather quickly with more hot rolls and a fresh plate of oil and herbs.
Soon, his date was a half hour late and Jon was feeling a bit stuffed on rolls. And he was rather…well, he was kind of angry. And feeling like a loser.
When another waitress came by instead of Sansa to ask if he wanted more rolls, he shook his head. “Why didn’t Sansa come over?” he asked the waitress.
“She’s taking care of a difficult customer and asked me to come over,” the waitress said. “Stood up, huh?”
Jon gaped at her. “Did Sansa tell you I was on a blind date?”
The woman, a brunette with piercing blue eyes, nodded. “We see it all the time.”
Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Do you think she saw you and left?”
Jon gaped again. “I didn’t, but now I do!”
The woman had the audacity to laugh just as Sansa came up. “I’m sorry, Jon,” she said. “I hope Margaery is treating you well.”
“Does everyone on the staff know I’m on a blind date?” Jon demanded, feeling rather butt hurt at the moment.
The pair exchanged looks and Sansa rushed forward and put her hand on his shoulder. It sent a jolt through him and apparently through her for she yanked it away as though it had burned her. “Jon, I’m sorry,” she said effusively. “It’s just that you were sitting here looking so cute and nervous and we were all pulling for you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out and I’m sorry if we,” she looked pointedly at Margarey, “made you feel uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do?”
She thought he was cute. That was all Jon could really focus on. They stared at each other and finally, Jon nodded slowly. “Yes, there is.”
“Name it.”
“You can have dinner with me.”
Sansa’s eyes went wide. “You want me to have dinner with you?”
He nodded. “Yes. That’s what I want.”
Margaery nudged her, smiling giddily. “Go, San.”
Sansa ignored her. “Well, I get off in an hour….?”
“I’ll have that beer then. And an appetizer.”
“How about some oysters?” Margaery suggested. “I suggest the oysters.”
“Oysters it is,” Jon said with a firm nod.
Sansa smiled, beamed really, and Jon broke into a smile.
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An hour later, when Sansa’s shift ended, she joined Jon wearing a long flowing black skirt, a tight black sleeveless wraparound top, and heels. Her hair was down and wavy about her shoulders, and she had reapplied her lipstick. She slid in across from Jon. “Hi,” she said somewhat shyly.
He smiled. “Hi.” He nodded to her. “Were you planning on going out after work? Did I disrupt plans?”
“I had a blind date too,” she said with a laugh. “But I called and cancelled.”
Jon broke into a wide smile. “That was nice of you.”
“Well, that’s just how I roll.”
Jon grimaced. “Don’t say roll.”
Sansa laughed. “Shall I recommend what to get for dinner?”
“Please.”
“And to drink?”
“By all means.”
Margaery came over, smirking, and took their order, and when she left, Sansa cocked her head to the side and said, “So, Jon. Tell me how someone like you has a hard time meeting women.”
“I’m awkward and I work odd hours. I’m a fireman.”
“Is that scary?”
“It can be. Do you work here full-time?”
Sansa sighed. “For now. I’m finishing grad school.”
“Oh? What are you going for?”
“Business management,” she said and looked around. “One day I’m going to own this place.”
Jon leaned forward. “Tell me more. Tell me everything about you.”
She smiled. “Only if you do the same.”
“I promise.”
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Two hours later, Jon rolled off Sansa onto his back and stared up at her bedroom ceiling. They were both panting. Jon was pretty sure he was already in love with Sansa. And it wasn’t the sex. It was everything. She was smart, funny, driven, and was easy to talk to. And those legs wrapped around him just perfect.
Now she rolled over and cuddled into his side. “Will you stay?” she asked softly.
“I would like to,” he said.
She smiled. “Good.” She propped herself up on her elbow and peered down at him. “Jon?”
“Yeah?” he murmured, gazing up at her reverently.
“I’m really glad your date bailed on you.”
“Me too, Sansa,” he murmured and drew her down for a kiss. “Me too.”
a/n: @jonsa-creatives i am so sorry. this should have been posted two weeks ago, but i never got around to do it. sorrysorrysorry! life got in the way!! this is unbeta’d.
in chronological order:
i - day 6, ii - day 2, iii - day 1, iv - day 3, v - day 4, vi - day 5
(jurassic world au)
Mrs. Stark reaches Rickon first – or Rickon reaches her. Whatever the case, they end up hugging in the middle of the entryway before the rest of the Starks drag them to where he’s sitting next to Sansa and Bran. Mr. Stark is quick to pull his injured son into his arms for a tight embrace, in a rare display of emotion—Eddard Stark, while not unfeeling, has never been the most affectionate of men.
Jon’s only ever seen him hug his children like that when they were all little.
Robb flutters between his parents, joining in the hugs of one brother and the other, even when said parents switched the boys around.
Sansa remains strangely still sitting next to him, almost as if trying to hide from her family, and for the most part, it seems to work. Jon doesn’t know what to think, or what to tell her; knows she’s spent the past three years skipping family gatherings but Jon has never had the courage to ask why.
So Sansa tries to become invisible, until Arya suddenly appears in front of them and pulls her up and into a fierce hug.
“I told you!” says Arya, forcefully, and were it not for having her face pressed against her sister’s shoulder, she’d be screaming. “God, Sansa, I told you not to work for that fucking Targaryen nutcase! You’re so stupid!”
While the insult would have meant an immediate explosive argument between the sisters, now Sansa simply laugh before breaking into sobs as she clutches at her sister with all her might. It takes a while to realize, what with her face hidden in Sansa’s shoulder, but Arya sobs as much as her sister, if not more.
“Arya…”
Mr. Stark smiles as he nears him, and Jon leaps up to his feet, immediately wincing as he does. Robb laughs, giving him a quick hug as his father grips his shoulder; the gratitude is there to see. Mrs. Stark smiles at him as well, and he suspects, had she not been embracing her children, she would give him a hug too.
“Jon, I can’t thank you enough…”
“There’s no need to—”
Robb pats his back before letting him go, smiling. “Hey, no need for modesty, I’m they couldn’t have made it without you.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“It was team work!” exclaims Rickon, his boyish smile a permanent fixture now that his family surrounds him.
His words do catch the attention of the newly arrived Starks.
“What do you mean, teamwork?” asks Arya, keeping her head down as she wipes her tears away.
“It means, we all had to work together to survive,” says Bran.
Jon smiles, slow and primarily at Sansa. “Well, at the very end, Sansa saved us all.”
Rickon launches into a full recount of everything they lived during the past day with enthusiasm, gesticulating excitedly – from the moment they deviated from the programmed path of their last ride, to escaping Viserys Targaryen’s precious creation, to meeting with Sansa and Jon, meeting the Raptors (“Jon is their Alpha, Mom!”). The hunt of the Indominus, the moment Bran broke his ankle and how they were all trapped in the gift shop until Sansa arrived with extra help.
“She went looking for the T-Rex, and brought it to fight the Indominus! And then the Raptors came back to help! It was awesome!”
Clearly, by the look on Mr. and Mrs. Stark faces, as well as Robb’s and Arya’s, they are all trying to determine if Rickon is telling the truth. Which Bran assures his family, he is. Sansa has retreated to his side, grabbing his hand and urging him to sit back down with her.
“You really went to look for a dinosaur to help fight another dinosaur?”
Sansa grins at her sister, unrepentant. “Bran said we needed more teeth.”
There’s a new kind of admiration shining in Arya’s eyes, which may have prompted to add the very important detail that Sansa did all of that in high heels, but.
But Jon thinks that he’ll keep that one between them.
“This is a twenty something male, found naked underneath a bank of snow. Unresponsive at the scene.”
So cold, it was so cold and dark. He felt numb.
“Should’ve been DOA - no heartbeat at scene. Why’s he restrained?”
“Partner was gonna call it when the dude just went ape-ship, screaming, kicking. My partner and me both had to hold him down.”
“What was he saying?”
“Gibberish, something about salsa or sienna.”
“Charging in three, one… two… three. Clear!”
Suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire, from the inside out. So much pain radiating from his chest. Felt hands firmly pressing his chest rhythmically. Something was covering his mouth, something cold and smooth.
No, no. The hands were not her tiny hands. No, no, let me go. I need to get back to her.
Something hard was pushed down his throat. He sputtered and gasped. Everything seemed to stop but for a beeping sound. Beep, beep, beep.
His eyes flew open. He could not see, blinded by the light. So bright, so bright. Benjen said the snow could be so white that a man could be blinded, not knowing where the ground even was or where the white sky began.
But he was not outside.
A small light was shone in his face. He tried to turn away but round hands held his head immobile.
“Mister… do you know why you are here, how you got here? What was the last thing you remember?”
“Snow,” he croaked.
It snowed on her eleventh name’s day, actually started the night before, starting with a delicate sprinkle lightly dusting the trees that grew into a thick blizzard. Old Nan said that it was fitting for the only Stark child born during a Northern, albeit mild winter, scoffing that the other Stark siblings were sweet summer children before ranting about 100 foot high snowbanks that buried entire villages and generations.
He remembered the hustle and bustle in Winterfell as a grand feast was planned for her day. Although Lady Catelyn thought it was not necessary as normally only their family and the Stark household celebrated the other name days of their large brood, Father insisted, wanting something special for his little princess. Normally Father deferred to his lady wife, but this time she acquiesced, with softness in her eyes.
There were rumors that she would soon be going South. Jon heard from the stableboys that the King and his royal family were coming in less than a fortnight, that their little princess would be a princess true, then later a queen. Queen Sansa. He called her that many times in the Old Keep, each time it hurt more and more, but he would never let her know.
The cooks made all of her favorite dishes. Rabbits that Jory and he trapped that Cook braised and stuffed with wild herbs, barley, and stewed fruits. And of course, Sansa’s favorite lemoncakes, buttery cakes with swirls of tart sweet frosting. Cook made extras the night before as she suspected that the little princess and her best friend would pilfer a few, leaving crumbs on the little lady’s bed sheets the next morn like they did the last eleven years. Cook even decorated a few with the letter S, for they were the ones always missing the next day.
What Cook did not know was that there were sticky crumbs in his tiny bed that barely fit him now that he sprouted in the last few months, but still slightly shorter than his Queen.
It always amazed him how Sansa would fit herself so snugly against his body so that they both fit in his bed. He could not tell exactly where his legs began or where hers ended. And she smelled so sweet, better than any of the winter roses he picked and wove into crowns for her. She always blushed a pretty pink and giggled when he told her that.
“Why aren’t you with Jeyne tonight?” he asked when he found her tucked in his bed.
Jon did not expect her here. Normally she would sneak in only during the heavy storms as Jeyne would not sleep with her then, complaining that she kicked and turned every time the winds howled. The blizzards also scared him - he imagined that the snow would completely engulf them, suffocating them to death, even though Old Nan scoffed at the storms, saying that they were merely flurries. He begun to look forward to them as Sansa would be there, holding him as they both fell asleep. Sansa always left before he woke up, but her sweet scent remained.
But there would be no large storm tonight. Father stared into the sky that morn and made that pronouncement. Father gravely nodded that there would be a fine storm for the feast the next day and that “Winter is coming.” Those were the House Stark words - he did not know then what they truly meant.
“Oh, you rather I leave?” Sansa quietly asked as she sat up. She looked nervous, unlike her haughty self, that he (and everyone even Arya) knew was just a facade - Sansa had the kindest and softest heart.
Shaking his head no, he sat next to her and held her close.
“No,” he whispered into her soft hair. He never wanted her to leave. Sansa did not pull away but instead buried her face into his chest. She was upset.
“My fair Queen, w-what would your wish be tonight?” he tried to joke.
Jon was never the jokester - that would be Robb, their brother, who always had a smile and quick quip that made others smile. He was as different from Robb as their little sister Arya was from Sansa. Sun and Moon.
“Do you know what Old Nan said about wishes? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Her voice was muffled as she did not lift up her face from his chest.
“And so I am a beggar now,” he exclaimed with feigned indignation. “Or are you calling me an animal? A horse may be too fine for the likes of me, perhaps a mule then?”
She finally looked up and smirked, “We know the title of Lord Stubborn as a Mule is already taken - it belongs to the Kraken.”
Jon looked away and blushed bright red, remembering the intimate scene they both saw at the Old Keep, their old meeting place until it was taken over by Lord Mule. Some serving girl was riding the Kraken. Luckily neither the girl who since left nor Theon saw them.
“Arya gave him one of her special surprises again,” Sansa blurted, trying to make her Jon smile.
They both stifled their laughter as Theon did deserve sheep dung in his mattress. They reclined back onto the bed with her lying atop him, her ear pressed against his heart while her hand lazily played with his long curly locks.
Jon knew that she would be upset when he and the rest of the boys had to shorn their hair for the upcoming royal visit. They were orders of her lady mother - they needed to look presentable, not like wildlings. If he were honest, he would miss his locks too.
Finally, she whispered that she knew a secret, giggling as she did. It always made him smile to hear that crystalline giggle. As always, one delicate finger pressed against his lips, although he would never say a word.
“Shhhh,” she admonished as she pretended to tippy toed out of his room, but first comically pretended to look both ways. There was never anyone near his room, far away from the Stark family private quarters and the servant’s quarters.
She ran, and he followed, both bundled in furs and trying to contain their giggles. Tim was asleep again on duty, but luckily the Winterfell walls were tall and strong.
In the storeroom, Jon had to lift her up as Cook hid the covered precious lemoncakes up high, away from any rodents but not high enough from them! After Jon found a half empty bottle of sweet ice wine, they each took one apiece with Sansa swirling the icing on his so that there was a lopsided J on it. They could not eat it there - his Queen whispered that they tasted best in bed.
And she was right. They drank the wine and waited until the moon was at the highest point to take their first bites. Jon shared his lemoncake after she devoured hers and pouted when he pretended that he would not share.
He took the tiniest bites, savoring her happy sighs after each of her bites and giggling at the icing that graced her nose. When he finally pointed it to her, she pretended that she meant to do that, that the Queen is never anything less than poised and oh so dignified, before they both bursted into giggles which deepened into gales of laughter when he pretended to lick it off her nose. She daintily wiped it off with her handkerchief.
As the snow delicately fell outside, Jon watched her fall asleep, her red tipped lashes fluttered. The hush of the snowfall magnified her soft breathing and the nuzzling sounds she made whenever he moved to take a better look at his sweet Sansa with her pert nose still sporting a tiny bit of frosting. Jon looked at her lips - did they taste as sweet as her beloved lemoncakes? He hovered over her, wanting so badly to steal a kiss.
One kiss.
Such a small thing it seemed until her eyes flew open in surprise. But instead of looking at him in disgust and backing away, she looked at him in wonder and smiled.
Whenever times were bleak, when he thought all was lost, Jon always came back to this memory, to her bright smile, to the love in her eyes.
I feel like I won an Academy Award or something!!!!! Thanks beyond thanks for tagging me for my writing. These are my favorite works and they are all WIPs. I love putting my Jon x Sansa in modern AUs. 1. Married At First Sight Westerosi Style 2. Your Dragon Ate My Snowflake 3. Collateral Damage (serious/modern issues) I have to tag the following writers because I read/try to read everything they write (even if it's a grocery list)..... @janina, @kittykatknits, @tubbylita, @Jeanettesc, @Thewolvescalledmehome,@Lemoncake_Chioni, @Amymel86, @myrish-lace-love, @vivilove-jonsa
